


One Last Thing

by superangsty



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, CLINT REALLY NEEDS A HUG OKAY????, I literally almost cried when I was writing this, I'm Sorry, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), although I suppose in a way you could say that its, okay, seriously so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superangsty/pseuds/superangsty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Clint-</i>
  <br/>
  <i>If you’re reading this, it means that I’m dead. It also means that I’m an idiot, but I’ll get to that later.</i>
</p><p>Clint is dealing with the consequences of the battle of New York. At least, he's trying to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Thing

It was a month after the battle of New York when Clint was finally allowed to go back to work. A month of constant testing. There were medical tests, to make sure that he hadn’t been too badly injured from the battle. And there were psych tests. Clint hated those most of all, hated having people picking through his brain, looking for something, anything, that might suggest that the effect of Loki’s spear was still lingering. He had put up with all of that for a month, and yet still he wasn’t allowed on the field, was restricted to desk duty.

At least all the mindless paperwork he was made to do helped keep his mind off of other things.

Other things, like the fact that Phil Coulson was dead.

Most of the time, he was pretty good at ignoring it. Clint had never really worked with Coulson in the office (most of their work together was done in the field), and so he could pretend, at least for a couple of hours, that Coulson was upstairs in his own office, working as hard as ever. He ate lunch at his desk, hadn’t even entered the cafeteria, because that had been their thing. No matter how busy they were, they would always try and meet there for lunch. Pretty much every single day. And so, to avoid the bombardment of memories that he was sure would come, Clint refused to eat in the cafeteria.

(Natasha had tried to get him to go, the first couple of days he was back at work. When she realised that this was a lost cause, she gave up, and started to bring her food down to his desk to eat with him.)

The very first day that Clint was back at work, he had been put at a desk next to Agent May. He knew her, although not well enough to consider her as anything more than an acquaintance. He knew that she had been one of SHIELD’s best agents, before she unexpectedly resigned from field work. He also knew that she had been one of Coulson’s best friends.

Seeing her brought back memories of Phil that he had been trying his best to lock away. It didn’t help when she tried to talk about him, tried to tell him that everyone missed him.

That first day, Clint requested to be moved to a different office space after having only spent half an hour in the first one. Nobody asked him why, and he didn’t offer them an explanation.

 

                                                                                              ~***~                     

 

A week after he had returned to the office, Clint looked up from his desk to see one of SHIELD’s lawyers standing in front of him. He had a brief moment of panic that he was in trouble for something he had done whilst under Loki’s influence. He had to quickly remind himself that Fury had gone out of his way to ensure that he wouldn’t be held accountable for what he did. It didn’t really help the panic go away.

“Agent Barton, I’m here to discuss the matter of Agent Coulson’s will. Do you have a moment?”

Clint had to forcibly stop himself from flinching at the sound of Coulson’s name, steeling himself as he replied. “Of course, yes. Please have a seat.”

The lawyer looked down at the paperwork he was holding, shuffling it before speaking again. “I’m sure that you and Agent Coulson discussed the contents of his will…”

Except that they hadn’t. Not at all. Most SHIELD agents had this superstition that if they talked about their wills, their luck would change, so it was a fairly taboo subject. “No, we never did. Why, did he leave me something?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure that the word ‘something’ is fitting under these circumstances. You see,” the lawyer paused, handing Clint a folder full of paperwork “Agent Coulson left you _everything._ ”

At that moment, Clint was extremely grateful that he was sitting down, because he was fairly certain that if he hadn’t been, he would have collapsed. “E-everything?”

“Yes. The paperwork in that folder should explain everything, but I can summarise for you: You will receive his life insurance, his pension savings, and most of the money that he had saved in the bank. Not all of it, some he left to charity, but you will get most of it.”

“Huh.”

Possibly not hearing his statement, or possibly just choosing to ignore it, the lawyer continued speaking. “You are now also the owner of his various properties, as well as all his belongings. This includes his motorbike and his two cars.” This was all a bit overwhelming for Clint, because not only had he never realised quite how much Phil had to give, but he had also never even considered that Phil would want to give it all to _him._

“Right, Agent Barton. That’ll be all, then. If you have any questions regarding the will, feel free to drop by the law department and talk to me. The lawyer stood up, turning to leave, before pausing and turning back to face Clint. “God, I’m sorry, I almost forgot. Agent Coulson requested in his will that you get this letter.”

He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Clint, before leaving properly. Clint couldn’t quite bring himself to open it, just set it down on his desk and stared.

 

~***~

 

Clint didn’t open the letter until the end of the day, when his shift was over and he had returned to his quarters. He tried to delay opening it for as long as possible; he tidied his room, washed up and got changed out of his work clothes, and he made sure that all of his paperwork for the day was completely finished. He considered not opening the letter at all, thought that maybe it would be for the best if he just tucked the envelope at the back of a drawer, where he could forget about it. He even considered burning it, a few times. But he didn’t want to disrespect Coulson’s final wishes, so eventually he sat down on his bed and opened it, hands shaking.

The first thing that he noticed was that the top corner of the letter had a date written on it, a date which was over five years earlier. Had Coulson really been planning to give all this to Clint for all this time? Why hadn’t he said anything?

_Clint-_

_If you’re reading this, it means that I’m dead. It also means that I’m an idiot, but I’ll get to that later._

_I hope, for the sake of my dignity, that I died fighting. It’s the way I’ve always planned to go, and it would be a shame to think that all my years at this damn organisation have gone to waste._

At the opening lines, Clint didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The writing was so unmistakeably _Coulson_ that he could almost hear the other man’s voice in his head as he read it. He let out a weak chuckle, figuring that it was probably better than a sob. Besides, he really shouldn’t be crying, didn’t want his vision to be blurry from tears before he finished reading the letter.

 

~***~

_I assume, by the fact that this letter is in your possession, that you’ve spoken to one of my lawyers by now. Which means that you should know I left you everything. And I really do mean everything. I’m sure that the lawyer explained it, but I thought I’d go over exactly what that entails, just so that you’re clear._

_All my money should now be yours. I know you don’t really care much about money, but please don’t just throw it away. I’m not exactly Tony Stark, but I’m fairly well off, and I think I’ll be able to rest in peace knowing that you’ll never have to worry about money again._

There is far too much money. Clint checks his bank account, just to be sure that the figures on the paper were right, not quite believing his eyes. Coulson had been right, he wasn’t exactly Tony Stark, but Clint had always assumed that he was a broke SHIELD agent like the rest of them. Well, he thought, at least it explains all the fancy suits.

Clint, who had spent his life with nothing, got by on hoping that he could find enough money for the basic necessities like food and a roof over his head, had no idea what to do with all of Coulson’s – no – his money. He left most of it, tried to pretend that it wasn’t even there, but some, he used.

He bought presents for Natasha, things he had always dreamed of giving her but could never really afford. After all, she deserved nice things too.

He also donated money to charity, even though the lawyer had told him that Coulson had already arranged for that to be done. He donated to the animal shelters that he would sometimes volunteer at, to the homeless shelters that he had, at some point, made use of, and to various orphanages across the country.

Clint may not be a philanthropist, not like Tony Stark, but at least he does some good.

~***~

 

_You also get my bike and my cars. I’m not massively attached to the bike, or the normal car, but you know how much I love Lola. Take good care of her, now that I’m not able to. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that that car is important._

He gave the car and bike to SHIELD, knowing that they needed them more than him. Sure, the bike was _really_ nice, but Clint had his own, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong to be using Coulson’s bike, couldn’t bring himself to think of it as his own.

He kept Lola in the garage, for the most part. Like the bike, it also felt wrong to be driving her, after spending years begging Coulson to allow him to do just that. But after the first couple of weeks of just going down to check that no damage had been done, he finally gave in and took a drive. Coulson had put his soul into the car, it didn’t seem fair to his memory to keep Lola locked up in a garage, and so, every Sunday, Clint would try and make time to just drive and drive, for hours at a time.

_Oh yeah, one more thing I never told you – Lola flies. Try not to fall out of the sky._

He almost laughed when he read that, when he found out that Lola flies. Almost, but not quite. He never tried to fly her, though, too afraid that he might crash and ruin everything.

Well, ruin everything that he didn’t manage to before.

~***~

 

_As for my properties, I’m sure you know about my apartment in New York. Obviously, it’s up to you, but I seriously suggest you move in there. It would be better than you staying in SHIELD quarters._

Coulson was right. As painful as it was to be there, Clint felt much more comfortable in the apartment than he had at SHIELD HQ. And so he filled a bag with his few belongings, and he left.

When he entered for the first time, there was a thin layer of dust over everything, but other than that, it just looked like an ordinary apartment. It looked like the kind of place that Phil had left in a rush the morning that he had…well, the morning he had died, and the entire place seemed like it was waiting for him to get back, to walk through the door and crash on the couch, as if it had been just another day in the office.

Clint put away the things he had, putting his books on the shelves alongside Coulson’s books, and his pictures next to the other frames scattered around the place. He tried not to disrupt Phil’s things too much, even left all of his old suits in the closet, not throwing out a single thing.

Sometimes it felt like Clint was only a guest there, like the entire apartment was still taken over by the memory of Coulson.

He wondered if it would ever feel like his own home.

He somehow doubted that it would.

~***~

 

_Then, there’s my childhood home in Wisconsin. I like to go there sometimes, when I need a break from the city. Wisconsin sucks, but the house is pretty nice, I promise._

Clint didn’t go to Wisconsin. He considered it, so many times he almost went up there, just so that he could look at Coulson’s house. Or his house, whatever. He somehow doubted that he would ever be able to think of Coulson’s things as his.

But, he didn’t think he would be able to bear it, seeing where Coulson grew up. It was bad enough, having to see pictures of Coulson from when he had known him, he dreaded to think how he would feel when he saw pictures of him as a child, as a teenager. Maybe Coulson had had a rebellious phase, maybe he had been a goth, or a punk, or…something. Before, Clint would have done anything to get Coulson to show him that kind of photo. Now, he would do anything to make sure that he _didn’t_ see them.

So he didn’t visit the house, just left it as it was, as it would probably stay for a long time.

~***~

 

_I also have a couple of safe houses, the ones that SHIELD doesn’t know about. They’re not much, but they’re yours. There’s the one in Portland, which I know you’ve stayed in a couple of times._

The apartment in Portland had been nice. It had been fairly empty; after all, it was only a safe house, but it had always felt pretty comfortable to Clint. He had gone there quite a lot, back when Coulson was still alive, when he needed to not be found. In fact, he was there enough times that he had made friends with the neighbours, had worked out where the best places to eat were.

The first time he went back there, after Phil had left it to him, he was hesitant. But the neighbours greeted him with open arms, had given him food and comfort when they realised that he was grieving. Nobody asked him what had happened, their support was just unconditional, and he remembered why he loved Portland so much.

Clint started to go back there as often as he could, when he needed to escape the weight of the memories that New York left him with, when he needed a place to cry where nobody could see him.

~***~

 

_There’s also one in DC, which I don’t think you’ve seen, but Tasha uses it quite a lot. She can show you where it is._

Clint didn’t care much about the safe house, felt guilty at the fact that he owned four separate homes, when previously he had owned none. The day after receiving the letter, after discussing the will, he went to visit SHIELD’s legal department, and arranged for them to transfer ownership of the DC apartment to Natasha. She would probably have more use for it than he would.

The two spies never actually discussed what Clint had done, but Natasha made sure to show him that she was grateful, through small smiles and lung-crushing hugs.

~***~

 

_And now to the point where I explain why I’m an idiot. You might be wondering why I would give you all this, and here’s why:_

_Clint, I know. I know about your feelings for me. I have done for a while now._

The first time that Clint read that line, he dropped the letter in shock. He sat, frozen in place for a few moments, before picking the letter back up and re-reading what had been written. He checked it again and again, before he finally managed to convince himself that yes, he was reading right. Phil had known. Phil had known, for over five years, and he had never even mentioned it to Clint.

_I need you to know that your feelings are returned, even if it’s too late for anything to come of saying it. I love you, Clint. God, I love you so much it hurts, so much that I dread to think what my life would be like without you._

_I suppose, in that sense, it’s a good thing that I don’t have to now, isn’t it?_

And that, that was the final straw. All the walls in his mind that Clint had built up since the battle of New York, every last one came crashing down, and he couldn’t hold any of it in anymore. The tears came slowly at first, his body getting used to the fact that he was crying for the first time in years, but once he started, it was impossible to stop. Each sob felt like his heart was being ripped into even more shreds, each tear that fell down his cheek felt wrong, like he was betraying himself by allowing them.

_If you feel even half of what I feel for you, I can only imagine what you must be going through right now, and it breaks my heart that you have to go through it alone, without me by your side._

He screamed into his pillow for what felt like hours, although in reality was probably only a few minutes. After that, once the pain had lessened slightly, he kept his face buried in the pillow, hoping that it would help stop the silent tears.

It was the first time in his life that he had ever cried himself to sleep.

Well, he thought bitterly, there’s a first time for everything.

~***~

 

_Please hold it together Clint, for me, please just do that._

_All my love,_

_-Phil Coulson_

He didn’t hold it together.

He didn’t think that was even possible, although he tried his best. It was a few weeks before he could stop the crying, although honestly, he reckoned that that was simply because he had no tears left. Instead, he was left feeling like an empty shell, stayed that way for months afterwards.

~***~

 

It was six months after the battle of New York, and Clint was curled up on the sofa watching Supernanny, when he heard the click of the lock, the slight creak of the door being opened.

His gun was out and pointed at the door in a split second, preparing to take down whoever it was that was attempting to break in, but he lowered it as soon as he saw who had just entered.

The man at the door was gaunt, and much paler than he remembered. He was obviously also very frail, because he was leaning heavily on a cane, just standing there, not even walking into the apartment. But, despite all of that, Clint would know that face anywhere, and so he got to his feet and walked towards him, as if in a trance.

“Phil.” He breathed the name, not trusting himself to say any more.

“Clint.” They stood in silence for a long moment, taking each other in, before Phil finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You read the letter.”

It wasn’t a question, not exactly, and yet Clint still responded with “I read the letter.”

Neither of them said anything more after that, Phil simply dropping his cane and throwing his arms around Clint, arms tight around his neck. In turn, Clint wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist, partially to support him standing, but mostly because he couldn’t believe that _he was holding Phil._

He wasn’t really sure who it was that leaned in first, but one second they were staring at each other, and the next their lips had crashed together. The kiss was hard, filled with desperation and hope and _love_ , and Clint found himself wishing that they could stay there forever, him finally having what he thought he had lost for good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> (sorry it was so angsty, I am a horrible person)
> 
> As always, please leave comments below to let me know what you think!
> 
> I also have a [tumblr](http://superangsty.tumblr.com)!


End file.
